For the second time in twenty-four hours, Delilah tore up Hillside Lane in the Mini, taking corners with the skill of a rally driver. And for the second time in twenty-four hours, Samson was an uncomplaining passenger. He’d just got off the phone from Danny and was digesting the news.
‘They’re about to release Kevin Dinsdale,’ he said to Delilah. ‘No charges brought.’
She glanced at him. ‘How did they realise? The timings?’
Samson shook his head. ‘He’s right-handed. Danny spotted it. Apparently the full forensics report which came in yesterday afternoon makes mention that the wound to Irwin’s right side – the one which caused him to fall and led to his death – was most likely made by a left-handed person.’
Delilah whistled. ‘Benson missed that?’
‘Seems so. But sharp-eyed Constable Bradley didn’t. I told them where we’ve got to and our suspicions, and it seems they’d come to a similar conclusion but with less proof, so Sergeant Clayton, Danny and Benson are already on their way over here from Harrogate. They’re about half an hour away.’
‘I suppose that means we’ll just have to deal with whatever we find ourselves until they get here,’ said Delilah.
Samson nodded. ‘Of course, there might be nothing to deal with at all. This could be a wild goose chase—’
A shotgun blast from up ahead carried through the open windows, a bevy of panicked pheasants flapping up into the air and crossing the road.
Delilah took the turn onto the Dinsdales’ track at a speed which reflected her alarm. As she pulled into the yard, they saw Herriot’s van already parked up.
‘Lucy!’ Herriot said as he raced into the gloom of the large barn, meagre light filtering down through the odd corroded hole in the corrugated roof above.
He blinked, eyes adjusting to the rapid change. Ahead of him he saw her, Lucy, standing stock still, hands lifted in a gesture of helplessness as she stared at something ahead of her.
‘Thank goodness,’ he said, hurrying to her. ‘You’re not hurt!’
‘Stop where you are!’ The voice came from behind a tower of hay bales. Female. Shaking. Louise Dinsdale stepped out into full view, a shotgun in her hands trained on Lucy. That was shaking too.
‘Louise!’ Herriot automatically started moving forward, a couple of long strides, the gun swinging his way.
‘I said stop!’ she shouted. Her eyes were wild, something in her demeanour suggesting she’d gone over the edge of sanity.
Herriot was alongside Lucy now. Inching his body forward, attempting to shield her.
‘Louise,’ he said again, voice low, calm. Trying to subdue the fear screaming through his veins, not for himself but for the woman he’d brought into this dangerous situation. ‘It’s me. Herriot. I called in about the tup.’
Louise nodded. Bit her lip. ‘I can’t let you see him just now.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Herriot. Keeping his tone soft, making no sudden movements. Going into the mode he used with irate livestock. Only difference was, spooked cattle didn’t carry guns. ‘But what about you? How are you doing?’
The gun quivered, barrels pointing to the floor as Louise looked at him. Tears in her eyes.
‘None of this was meant to happen,’ she said.
‘I know,’ Herriot lied, not having a clue what was going on. He took a step forward, Lucy completely behind him now. ‘I know, Louise. We all know.’
‘He was a devil. He ruined my life. I couldn’t see him do it to someone else . . . Elaine and Nina – he was grooming them. Like he did me—’ She choked to a halt. Wiped her sleeve over her eyes, the shotgun dropping even further.
‘You don’t need to explain,’ said Herriot. Stretching a hand out slowly, making it clear it was in comfort not in threat.
‘But I didn’t mean to kill him.’ A raw sob broke from her. ‘I just wanted to warn him I wouldn’t let him get away with it again. But he went for me, just like last time, and I was so scared, I hit him with the binoculars.’ Tears were flowing now, down both cheeks, her body shaking. ‘I knew straight away he was dead and then . . . and then . . . I couldn’t think straight. And now . . . Kevin’s confessed and it’s all my fault. So I came out here . . .’
Her glance fell to the gun. She stared at it as if seeing it afresh. As if remembering what had brought her out into the barn in the first place. She began to raise it, barrels towards herself. Her intention clear.
‘No, Louise!’ said Herriot, moving forward at a pace, grabbing for the gun. His hands on the metal. Someone behind him. Lucy. Grabbing Louise. And then an almighty roar, in his ears, thumping through his lungs, the breath knocked from him. He collapsed to the floor, stunned, not sure if the screams were his own or someone else’s.
The second shot had them running. Across the front yard, down the side of the house, towards the barns.
‘Which one?’ shouted Samson as Delilah streaked ahead.
She pointed to the barn on the left and ran towards it. Towards the sound of screams. A woman. Other voices.
Samson followed, breath coming in fearful snatches. Into the dark of the big structure where three figures were on the ground, one cradling another, the third lying dazed.
‘Lucy!’ shouted Delilah, already there, already bending down to the two women. Louise Dinsdale in Lucy’s arms, her screams fading to cries as Lucy held her and stroked her hair. ‘Anyone hurt?’
‘I think we’re all okay,’ murmured Herriot, still prone, shaking his head, his eyes not quite focused.
‘What happened?’ Samson was by them, crouching down, giving Herriot his hand and helping the vet sit up.
Herriot shook his head again. Took a deep breath. ‘Louise was cleaning the shotgun and it went off,’ he said, his eyes locking on Lucy’s.
Lucy nodded. ‘It was a total accident. Poor Louise.’
While Louise Dinsdale just cried, the sound of bitter heartbreak and injustice one which would stay with Samson for ever.